


i wanna be with you everywhere (dude)

by kimwexler



Category: Bill & Ted (Movies)
Genre: (cuz in canon their moms are fighting aliens??), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Closeted Character, Eventual Happy Ending, First Kiss, M/M, Marijuana, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24517852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimwexler/pseuds/kimwexler
Summary: Bill and Ted smoke weed for the first time.
Relationships: Ted "Theodore" Logan/Bill S. Preston Esq.
Comments: 23
Kudos: 180





	i wanna be with you everywhere (dude)

**Author's Note:**

> title from fleetwood mac's everywhere <3  
> thanks to lucas for beta-ing!

Everyone assumed that Bill and Ted were stoners. It made sense, putting together the pieces of all aspects of their personalities. Their music, the way they dressed, and especially the way the talked, all pointed to a deep passion for the devil's lettuce. But no, there were no illegal drugs at play… the boys were just like that. 

Sure, they had both heard of weed. They lived in California, where at parties, marijuana was just as common as a keg or a six-pack of beer. But it’s not like Bill and Ted were ever invited to any parties. They weren’t very popular at all, and it wasn’t like they had any friends outside of their two-man brigade, which left their weed connections to be most difficult. 

Besides, the two of them had just enough fun on their own, not needing to crutch on anything for a most excellent time. They could manage that just fine, spending their time doing whatever they wanted- mainly to keep their minds off what was happening at home. 

But as Ted sits in his bio class, working on dissecting a worm, he can’t help but hear Eddie Bracco, the school drug dealer, spill about how well his little growing business was going. Head down to his worm, Ted listens. 

“I’m making more money growing and selling than I ever did at Sunglass Hut.” Says Eddie to his small, but captive, group of classmates. "A couple grow lights, some organic soil and whatever seeds I had leftover from fiending… I’m now making at least 300 hundred a week.”

The aspect of the money goes in one ear and out the other for Ted. All he hears is that someone that he knows can get him weed.

When the bell rings, Ted quickly gathers his books and rushes out the door to catch up to Eddie. Eddie sure does walk fast, but Ted manages to reach him before he enters the English department hall. “Hey, Eddie, man!” 

Eddie turns slowly… almost suspiciously. They had talked before, being in a similar social circle. Well, really, it was the social circle Ted and Bill wanted to be apart of but was never accepted into. Sure, they all listened to the same bands and watched the same shows and all liked the same things, but Bill and Ted were just different from the rest of them. If they weren’t so different, Eddie wouldn’t be looking at Ted like he was currently. 

“Hi, Ted.” He says like it’s a chore. “What’s up?”

“I want to buy some weed.” Says Ted firmly, as if he was declaring something most significant. “Please.” He adds as an afterthought. Didn’t want to be rude to a business associate. As soon as he says this though, he realizes he made a little bit of a mistake, as Eddie yanks him into the adjacent boy's bathroom.

“Are you fucking dumb?” Eddie snaps, as the swinging door shuts behind them. 

Ted looks both ways to make sure Eddie’s addressing him. The bathroom is pretty much empty. “Uh, no?” Ted says in a confused tone, tilting his head like a puzzled dog, dark hair swinging to the side. 

Eddie sighs, remembering he’s dealing with Ted Logan, and in fact, he is fucking dumb. It was probably never a thought in his mind that asking for illicit drugs in public was a pretty rotten idea. “Listen…” he thinks about explaining, but changes his mind. “How much are you buying?”

Ted considers this. “Two, please.”

“Two what?”

“Well, one for me and one for Bill. So two.” 

Eddie, once again, feels like he shouldn’t explain, and decides that he’ll just set Ted up with a gram or two. Eddie could easily scam him, as Ted obviously has no idea what he’s talking about, but he remembers that he and his best friend Bill had never been anything but nice to him. “Two grams is 15 dollars. I can deliver it to your house later. You still live by the city pool?”

Ted nods, digging through his backpack to find whatever loose bills that would have been used as this weekend’s Circle K money. He gathers up what’s needed, hands over the crumpled cash to Eddie, and makes a mental note to get a wallet as soon as possible. He also asks if he could instead bring it by Bill’s house. Ted doubts that Eddie would appreciate any encounter with father, Captain Logan. 

Ted doesn’t have any important classes for the rest of the day, so he decides to loiter around in the courtyard until Bill’s done with his eighth-period math class, which is most important since it was needed for graduation next year. The last thing they wanted was to spend yet another year in the hell known as San Dimas High School.

He accidentally drifts to sleep, lounging against a bench gifted by the Class of 1980, only to be jerked awake by the ringing of the final bell. Ted rubs sleep from his eyes and decides to find Bill. He hadn’t seen his best friend in almost three days. When Ted had called him up, Mr. Preston picked up the landline and cited a wicked sinus infection for Bill’s absence. Ted finds this weird, though, because for as long as they’ve been friends, they’ve had a very sacred pact. If one of them got sick, they would pass it on to the other boy by any means possible, sharing whatever they could find. With both of them sick, they were free to play hooky from school together, milking the time at home for as long as possible, falling into exaggerated coughing fits whenever their parents asked if maybe it was time to return to school. 

But Bill hadn’t rung up Ted with the promise of missing school at all during his three-day absence. Whenever Ted called, it went to voicemail or picked up by Bill’s Dad or Missy. However, last night, Ted was finally able to get through the wall of Missy and contact who he was really calling for. Within seconds, he made a tired-sounding Bill agree to come to school the next day, swearing to provide an amazing weekend for the two of them if Bill was able to suck it up and face school with a snuffy nose, as hard as that was. 

As suspected, Ted ends up finding Bill standing by his locker, fishing out what was needed for this weekend, and stuffing in what wasn’t. Ted greets his blonde friend with a light shove and a signature labrador-ish grin. “Hey, dude,” He says brightly. “Are you ready for a most excellent weekend?”

Bill, obviously a little off, ignores the playful gesture and keeps his head down as he shuts his locker. They walk out to the parking lot in almost complete silence, with only Ted breaking the quiet by earnestly bringing up subjects to get Bill to break. But he doesn’t take the bait, instead responding to Ted with simple, one-word answers. The further they walk, the more Ted thinks that Bill doesn’t look all that sick, but instead just really, really, sad. 

By the time they’re back at Bill’s house, Ted is feeling most perplexed about his friend's silence. In all the years they had been friends, (fourteen to be exact), Ted had only seen Bill for a loss of words one other time. It was back in middle school when Bill’s mom died. He hadn’t come to school for weeks, rarely leaving his bedroom, letting his dad leave him microwaved meals outside his door in case he wanted to eat. 

Ted remembers with aversion how awful it smelled in Bill’s room during that time, due to all the uneaten food sitting by the doorway. If Ted knew, would never in a billion years let his best friend live in such a way. But he had no clue, as Bill didn’t allow anyone to see him for weeks. 

Eventually, after trying for what seemed like forever to Ted, he was able to gain access to Bill’s room with a promise of the new Fleetwood Mac album. Although both Bill and Ted swore they only played Fleetwood for the babes, deep down, both of them had a soft spot for the flowing and peaceful lyricism of Stevie and the rest of the gang. Besides, it’s not like an Anthrax album would be very peaceful for Bill during this most trying time.

They listened to the record three times over, and on the forth, Ted finally felt comfortable enough to start cleaning Bill’s very egregious bedroom, removing all of the plastic trays and dumping them in the sink. He even convinced him to take a shower.

At least then Ted knew what was wrong, so he knew how to fix it. Now, it’s all weird because he has no clue what’s going on. So, not knowing what to say, Ted says nothing at all. 

After what seems like hours of stillness, there’s the grand chiming of the doorbell, musical tones ripping the boys from their daze. (Ted had always been jealous of that pretty awesome doorbell. It was beautiful, and cool, and probably worth a lot, so easily symbolized everything Bill had and Ted didn’t.)

“I wonder who it could be,” says Ted, in yet another attempt to pull Bill into conversation. It doesn’t work. 

They listen as Missy cheerily opens the door to the visitor, and upon hearing their conversation, Ted remembers exactly who it could be. He quickly bounds down the stairs, trying to avoid yet another second of painfully awkward between Bill’s stepmom and the local dealer. 

By the time he reaches them, and Missy turns around with a sly smile, Ted realizes he royally fucked up. Eddie was in the grade above the two boys, so that left for only more time for Missy to come in contact with him. There’s no doubt that Missy knew Eddie and all his pothead ways. Usually, Ted likes Missy just fine, but just for this moment, he curses the fact that Mr. Preston had to marry a girl who went to their school. They were so busted. 

But instead of chewing Ted out for venturing in the waters of gateway drugs as a real mom would, she just smiles at the both of them. “I’ll leave you boys to it,” she says in her usual motherly tone, turning in to the kitchen to probably make some tragic dish for dinner. 

“Man, I haven’t seen Missy since graduation,” says Eddie, craning his head to check out the slightly older girl as she left the room. “I didn’t know that she was Bill’s sister.”

“Mom, not sister,” says Ted easily, as he had made this correction hundreds of times before. “May I have my weed please?”

A confused Eddie shakes his head, brushing aside the comment, not wanting to spend much more time with Ted. “Yeah, sorry,” he says, fishing out a paper bag from his backpack, then passing it to Ted. “Take it easy, though, Logan. It’s some strong shit.” 

Ted nods brightly. “Of course, dude! It’s not like I haven’t heard that one before!”

And Eddie nods, knowing that in fact, Ted had never heard ‘that one’ before. He was holding the stash bag like it was a lunchbox. With a curt nod, he shows himself out, leaving Ted in the foyer. 

When Ted returns to Bill’s room, he’s in the same position, sprawled out on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Who was it?” Bill asks lamely, barely lifting his head. 

“Doesn’t matter, dude, cuz I got you a surprise!” Says Ted, excitedly. He pulls the gift out of the wrinkled bag and holds it in the air like a knight brandishing a sword. “Weed!” 

Ted sits up now. “Huh?”

“Weed, dude, I got you weed!” Ted looks like he’s a kid on Christmas morning. Like this was the best gift he could ever give and receive. “You know… like reefer… pot… MJ…”

“I know what weed is.”

Ted presses the two joints into Bill’s hand. Eddie had wrapped them up nicely, knowing that they wouldn’t have a pipe or bong to smoke out of. Although Bill and Ted were some peculiar guys, they were nice to everyone, and Eddie thought that was pretty cool. The least he could do was roll some joints for the dudes. 

Bill looks at the two rolled papers with narrowed eyes, almost determining if the gesture could pull him out of the funk he was stuck in. He looks up at Ted, who’s gleaming so hard he may break, and decides that he’d give it a try. “Yeah, alright.” He says with a weak smile. 

Ted cheers inwardly, celebrating the fact that, one, Bill finally smiled, and two, that he was now gonna get absolutely baked with his very best friend. He once again hurdles downstairs, this time to find a lighter, telling Missy that they needed it for a science project. Missy, of course, happily obliged to help Ted find what he needed, no questions asked. She was probably a little proud that the boys were taking a step up from stealing beers from the fridge.

When he returns upstairs, he notices that Bill has put on a Van Halen album (Fair Warning, which was Ted’s favorite) and was busy clearing out a spot beside his window. When he notices Ted tilting his head in question at the window activity, Bill explains himself. “I don’t wanna concern Dad or Missy. A window has easy access for smoke to get out, you know.”

Ted nods with a smile. That was like, twenty words. The most Bill has said all day. It thrills Ted. “Great idea, dude!” He then joins Bill at the window seat. Out of habit, he realizes this is another thing he’s jealous Bill has. Ted thinks to himself that when he has a happy, loving family, he’ll put a window seat in every room. Even the bathroom.

“I’ve seen people do it before in movies, dude,” says Bill, luring Ted out of his domestic daydream. “Light blunts I mean.” Ted must do his questioning head tilt again because Bill explains further. “It’s just like a cigarette. Here.” 

Bill places the blunt between Ted’s lips, and flicks on the lighter, illuminating the end of the paper. Ted breathes in and immediately coughs, despite trying with all his will to do the opposite, wanting desperately to impress his friend. 

Ted reddens with embarrassment, expecting a jab from the other boy, but Bill just lifts the blunt back up to Ted’s mouth. “It’s okay, try again.” He says calmly, his eyes understanding. “But I think you need to breathe with your lungs instead of your mouth.”

So Ted does just that, breathing from his belly like he used to when he decided to take band with Bill in freshman year. Straight away, he feels like he’s going to cough again, but pushes through it, holding the smoke in his lungs. As he sits there, lungs full, he feels the plant start to creep into his system, making his mind feel hazy. Eventually, his body asks for oxygen and he exhales, falling into another coughing fit. Once again, Bill doesn’t make fun of him, instead grinning with excitement. “Dude! That was astounding!”

Ted can feel himself glow from Bill’s encouragement. Or maybe it's just the weed. 

They switch positions, with Bill now holding the blunt between his teeth, the cherry still burning from Ted’s hit. Without needing a lighter-man, Ted just lamely sits back and watches Bill smoke. It’s easy for him.

He’s an upper hand though, sometimes smoking Cuban cigars with his father on special occasions. Inhaling and exhaling are simple. Bill can even do a smoke ring, pressing his lips into an ‘O’ shape and lightly puffing out small circles. For some reason, this makes Ted’s stomach flip-flop. He ignores it.

They continue this, wordlessly going back and forth until the blunt is smaller than Ted’s thumbnail. Bill generously lets Ted finish it off, then taking the roach and crushing it into a Coke can. Without the repetitive movement of the passing, Ted allows his body to take in the complete haze he’s experiencing. He had heard kids talk about smoking at school, and he had seen it portrayed in movies, but Ted had always figured there was some sort of exaggeration at play. A ‘you had to of been there’ move. But sitting here, at the window seat, he realizes that this is exactly how everyone described, but more. Way more. In his mind, Ted fights to find the words to paint the picture of what he’s feeling. Bill beats him. 

“It feels like I’m floating.” He says hazily. 

Precisely, Ted thinks. Just like floating. If Ted didn’t have eyes and a body and all that stuff, he would whole-heartedly believe he was floating just inches above his body. He watches earnestly as Bill slowly waves his hand in front of his face, amazed that he was still inside his own body. Ted follows suit, entranced by the odd, delayed, feeling. Like with every movement, his body and spirit were always a second behind, catching up to follow the command of something as simple as moving his hand. “Peculiar.” He mumbles. 

“Most definitely.” Agrees Bill.

Bill then announces that he’s going to lay down. Ted’s first instinct is to crawl under the covers with him like they used to. Face to face, inches away from each other, falling asleep to the sound of each other’s breathing. He stops himself, knowing that Bill hadn’t let him sleep next to him in months, now making Ted sleep on the floor, which admittedly, made him feel a little bit like a dog. It wasn’t a mean gesture at all, making Ted sleep on a nest of blankets on the ground, but Bill had decided that ‘Dudes didn’t do that stuff,’ and suddenly sleeping together was now a thing of the past. 

Even if they decided that they could lay together, just this once, under the protection the haze lent them, Ted knew this was a bad idea. Even with his limited knowledge about weed, he knew that they would both remember the interaction the next day. That would be most awkward for the both of them, especially knowing how much steering clear meant to Bill. As badly as Ted longs to lay next to his best friend, he knows he shouldn’t. Instead, he leans his head against the window and watches Missy water the plants in the backyard below. 

Missy. She had recently been in Ted’s mind more than he had like to admit. Just not in the way most would expect.

For as long as Ted can remember, he knew that Missy was the one. He had always been the self-proclaimed ladies man, weaseling his way in any chance he got to talk to a couple of girls. It was expected of him… all dudes, really. As soon as every baby boy is removed from their mom’s teat and beginning to babble, they’re asked what toddler girl they’re crushing on. And for Ted, being the especially social kid he was, it was almost anticipated by his family when he would bring a girl home. 

It became a little game for Ted. Although he had really no interest in girls at all, he wanted to see how well he could play the role of the high school Casanova. Every night, when Captain Logan returned home, he would inquire about what unsuspecting woman his eldest son wooed that day. And accordingly, Ted would weave intricate stories of Hannahs and Rachels and Claires and most commonly, Missy. He had chosen Missy in particular because Captain Logan knew her dad, and could respectfully agree that Missy was a total babe. Yeah, Missy was ‘the one.’ Just not in the traditional sense. No, Ted had a system.

Whenever he caught himself losing interest in his female classmates and instead wandering into thoughts of the opposite team, he would give himself a mental slap on the wrist and think of Missy. She was the answer (and punishment) for every single unfavorable thought he had about men.

Do you let your eyes glance across the locker room, even if it’s for a second? Think of Missy. 

What about fantasizing about some chiseled movie star in the shower? Dude, Missy. 

Or, most commonly, is your first thought in the morning and last thought at night be your best friend, Bill? How much you long to spend every second for the rest of your life with him? Missy, Missy, Missy!

Ted glares down at the back garden, somewhat believing the harder he stared at her, the easier he could ignore any desires towards Bill. It’s not working. He doesn’t know if it’s the weed, or because Bill was laying down in the corner of his eye. Laying down in the bed he longed so badly to be in. 

“Hey,” says Bill, making Ted jump slightly. He wonders to himself if Bill was somehow reading his mind. That’s the last thing he wants right now. Ted turns towards Bill warily. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, dude,” says Bill. He sounds a million miles away. “Are you okay?” 

Ted nods. “Wanna smoke the other one?” He asks, in an attempt to hush any further thoughts about Bill. He figures the higher he gets, the further he can get away from this weird fantasy world in his mind he’s created about his best friend. 

“Good thinking dude. I was just thinking that,” replies Bill easily. “You gotta come here though. I don’t think I can move.” And although Ted knows he shouldn’t move an inch closer towards Bill, he warily takes the invitation and is soon settled on the bed he was aching for so badly just a few minutes ago. Those few minutes feel like a lifetime now.

They rekindle the routine they had established earlier, passing the blunt to each other, relishing in the earthy scent and taste of the bud. Eventually, Ted can feel himself mellow out in the calming presence of Bill, allowing himself to relax on to the bed. Bill doesn’t object. 

When the vinyl starts to pop and crackle, signaling the end of the album, the two boys sleepily argue who should sit up to change it. Eventually, the white noise coming from the turntable becomes unbearable to Ted, so he slides off the bed in one fluid motion and pads across the room to change the record. He scans the several crates that Bill owns, trying to find the perfect album for the moment. Eventually, Ted finds exactly what he’s looking for, placing it under the needle, then returning to his place next to Bill. 

Bill has his mouth slightly parted, and eyes closed, blonde curls falling into his line of sight. Instantly, Ted thinks of the Greek statues that Rufus had directed them to go visit on one particularly boring summer day. Not with the phone box either. Just at a regular museum.  
The pair had spent hours perusing the art, bewildered over the sheer craftsmanship of the enormous, stone men. The statues were so incredible to them that they didn’t even take time to snicker at the statues’ uncovered penises. However, they did take the time to realize how absolutely excellent it was that Bill resembled the David statue so closely. Ted had even secretly bought a postcard brandishing a photograph of Bill’s doppelgänger, taping it up next to his bed as soon as he arrived home. Every night, Ted would stare at David, but to him, he was staring at Bill.

If it wasn’t for Missy, Ted would allow himself to sit there, cross-legged, staring at his personal David until the end of time. But Missy, he reminds himself. Missy, Missy, Missy. Don’t be a fucking fag.

“Is this what I think it is?” Bill opens his eyes slightly. “You put on Fleetwood. Tango in the Night.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Do you remember when you gave me this record?”

Of course he does. “Nope.”

“Bogus.” Says Bill, propping himself up on one elbow to face Ted. “I know you do. It was after my Mom died. I shelled myself up in my room and blocked out anyone who tried to comfort me or console me. It was like, weeks, dude, I wouldn’t talk to you. Or anyone really.” He waves his hand towards the room, towards the music. “But once you brought me this, I was ready to be okay again, you know? I was ready to come back to life. To see you. My most excellent friend.” Although it seems like he should grin at this moment, he doesn't, instead turning his head sadly.

It feels like a bag of bricks has been dropped on Ted’s stomach, with his brain whirring with every single way Bill’s last sentence could be interpreted. Without thinking, his tongue clumsily spits out words. “You know, today I thought I had lost you again. Not talking again and all.”

Bill, still positioned towards the other boy, visibly weakens, muscles loosening almost in defeat. “Yeah. I thought I did too.” He says with a sigh. Then, after a few seconds, he adds on to his statement, which sounds suspiciously related to his precious words. “You know, I think we should stop calling each other faggots.”

This was certainly a surprise for Ted. Bill, who would force Ted to sleep on the ground to avoid any accidental queer implications was now asking to quit using the word fag? Sure, they didn’t use the word a lot, but Bill might as well have said it when he asked Ted to get out of his bed in the first place. “Why do you say that?” Ted asks gently, using every muscle in his body to avoid reaching out to console Bill.

They sit for several seconds, and Ted grows to not expect an answer because he doesn’t know the answer himself. If he wasn’t a fag, why did it hurt to so bad to be called one? He mulls over this, wishing he had a paper and pen so he could remember this thought for a more sober time. 

“Ted?” Asks Bill.

“Yes, Bill, my friend?” Ted responds.

“Do you think two dudes could love each other?” Bill says quietly, staring up at the ceiling, hands tightly woven. His blue eyes flick around, focusing on something that's not there.

“No.” Replies Ted simply. He can’t manage to say much else, trying to ignore the fierce electricity he was feeling flow between them. But after a few seconds, he gathers the strength to harness the tensity. “That’s why I’m so very confused.” And as the words tumble out, he can’t stop from more coming out, riding the lighting of confrontation. “I’m confused because I don’t know what it is I feel for you, then.” Shit. Shouldn’t have said that.

Bill turns his head, scanning Ted’s face. He looks cold, detached, like an android that had been unplugged. Just one glance drags all the wind out of Ted’s sails. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m saying. I didn’t mean that.” 

And again, Bill shakes head, but this time, he extends his arm. “C’mere.”

Ted must look at him like he’s insane because he repeats himself. “Ted, c’mere. Let me hold you, dude.” Bill brings his body closer to him, still keeping his arm outward, to invite Ted to join him. And Ted, knowing as much as he absolutely shouldn’t fall into this trap, messing up everything he loved about their friendship, he can’t resist Bill, and how his eyes have now softened from their icey state. 

After a few seconds of hesitation, Ted lowers his head onto his best friend’s chest, hands slightly trembling as he raises them up to curl around his torso. In fourteen years, this is the closest they had ever been physically, aside from the occasional swift hugs that were cut short from fear of being called the word they had hereby banned. It was nice, and Oh my God, was it natural. But natural or not, Ted can't help but feel the sinking feeling of guilt. He had somehow weasled his way into Bill's arms, who's probably itching to let him go in any moment. Let Ted return to the floor.

Neither of them say anything. Seconds tick by, and the Fleetwood record continues to turn. Every song serves as a timekeeper, because the more songs that passed, the more it proved that this position wasn’t a fluke on either Bill nor Ted’s behalf. Eventually, Bill speaks up, words passing through his chest, buzzing against Ted’s ear. It reminds Ted of a bee in a nest. “I think two dudes can love each other, dude,” Bill says evenly like this was the simplest thing he could ever say in his life. “Because we’re two dudes, and I love you.”

Ted doesn't even have time to process this, because in one swift motion, before either of them could back down from their feelings, they crash into each other, kissing in a way that neither of them knew was possible. This wasn’t a kind of kiss seen in movies or on television. This was completely different, based on years of touch and go emotion and deep pining… a kind of love that no actors could ever replicate. Ted even takes time to think that this very moment in time was worth the years of painful slow-burning. He relishes in that fact, until, presumably, Bill pulls away to catch his breath. However, instead of looking lovestruck, or at least a little out of breath, he just looks sad. 

“You feelin’ alright, dude?” Ted asks, selfishly worrying that Bill had suddenly changed his mind. That would be, quite honestly, the most tragic thing to ever happen in the universe, Ted thinks. 

But instead, Bill just shakes his head. “Do you think this is because we’re not in our right heads? Like is this because of the… you know… or is it real?” 

Ted mulls this over. “I think… this is the realest thing I’ve ever felt.” 

“Me too.”

“You won’t forget tomorrow?” Ted asks.

“I think that would be impossible.” Bill replies.

Instead of going back to kissing, they melt into their last position, Ted’s head hovering over Bill’s heart. When a slower, quieter song comes on, Ted can even hear it beat. Low and slow. Thud thud, thud thud, thud thud. It’s a methodical rhythm, and between the calming beat and the fact Bill was now gently combing through his hair, Ted feels like he could drift into a wonderful, deep sleep. 

He’s one foot into cloudy dreamland when a most spectacular thought springs into his head, causing him to arch his back in excitement. “Does this now mean we’re boyfriends?” asks Ted enthusiastically. 

Bill smiles like this was exactly what he was waiting to hear, tucking a strand of Ted’s wayward behind his ear. “Ted, my friend, I couldn’t ask for more.”

“Ted your boy-friend.” Corrects Ted with a grin. And in this most excellent moment, there’s not much to do other than air guitar in triumph. So, that’s exactly what they do.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twitter at @mostexceIIent! (the two Ls are Is cuz i'm sneaky)
> 
> (also it’s 1988 in this story so these bitches can actually land 2 grams for 15 dollars. lucky bastards)


End file.
